In Search of Booty
by Blake Wales
Summary: Commander Tarenor of the Phoenix Highguard is hosting a jousting tourney between the Alliance and Horde, but something goes terribly wrong. Astilaldan must fix it before things get much worse. DISCLAIMER: None of this actually happened, none of this is canon, and was written as an art trade with Mayluri. Tare is a gentleman and Astil is a grumpyface. ED-US. Ahvie is my character.


**EDITOR'S NOTE :** If you cannot tell from the excessive use of adverbs and poor attributions, this swill is not intended to be serious or canon. The only motivation I had into taking an idea like this and running down the rabbit hole with it is Mayluri dangling a beautiful commission trade in front of me.

\- ••••••• -

The winds of Northrend never seemed to be anything other than cold and biting, even to the heavily armored blood knights of the Highguard. Astilaldan kicked a pile of snow in front of his tent at the Argent Tourney Grounds as he shivered beneath his thermal plating.

 _Shit_ , he thought. _Why did the commander choose this old relic as the place we had a competition?_

He knew the answer, though. In a show of good will, Tarenor had extended the friendly invitation to the Alliance as well, and everyone's spirits of competition and camaraderie would warm their hearts. Nobody would even notice the... blizzard-like conditions, knee-deep snow and icy blue mountains. Nope, wouldn't even notice that harrowing drop off the cliffs to the waters nearly a mile below.

 _At least everyone else is too busy running around having fun to remember to freeze their asses off_ , Astil thought.

Almost as if on cue, a short elf woman in naught but thigh highs and a leotard went sprinting by his vision in a crimson blur.

 _Damnit, Ahvie. What are you up to, now?_

Astil noticed that for once she didn't call him Grumpyface or even notice him this time as she dashed off into the snowdrifts near the... Alliance camps? _Everyone has orders not to fraternize with the humans._ Just as he was about to take a plodding step in her direction, a familiar voice emerged from the Sunreaver tent behind him.

"All right, Lieutenant, let's go out there and make sure everyone has some fun!"

Astil straightened up immediately and turned to his only superior, Commander Tarenor, who was dressed in his golden finery fit to rival Tirion himself.

Tarenor stretched his arms in the air briefly before letting out a brief yawn, hopefully on the tail end of waking up rather than the other way around.

"The troops are already out and about, and some appear to be mingling already," Astil said.

Tarenor smirked knowingly. "Of course they are, they haven't been this close to a snowball fight in months. Let them have some fun."

Astil sighed. "No, sir, I mean... some are talking with the Alliance. That demon hunter. Ahvie. Some of the Ebons."

"Well then we need to remind them, yes?" Tarenor raised a hand to his ear and boomed out some orders, presumably via the commstone. "Highguard, I should remind you that you are not permitted to speak with our Alliance guests, even here on hallowed ground. We don't want them suspecting us of spying and breaking our good faith and hospitality."

Tarenor lowered his hand, his smile and twinkling eyes defiant against the Icecrown winds blowing his hair sideways. Astilaldan shivered again, secretly wishing he'd had worn that extra onesie layer Mayluri told him he should have brought with.

Tarenor took a step from the boardwalk into the snow and was immediately pelted with a falling rock from the sky the size of a watermelon. "OOF!" Tarenor landed face-first in the snowbank, and Astil ran to his commander's side.

Tarenor stirred immediately, but didn't straighten up right away. "Sir! Are you alright?" Astil looked to the icy pathway to see what had fallen from the sky, and it was ... an icy blue watermelon? It hadn't even shattered or broken on the ground and was still rolling away towards the Alliance camp. _The fel?_

"Sir?" Astil said as he turned back to his commander, who just bolted upright with an odd look in his eyes. " **LIEUTENANT.** "

Tarenor's eyes were different alright, they twinkled but looked ... well, almost bluish instead of green. Astil had to blink a few times to make sure that watermelon hadn't transformed his boss into a high elf.

"Sir? You're not hurt? It looks like a watermelon fell from the sky and bludgeoned you. We should take you to see Nynvaeve immediately..." He helped pull Tarenor up from the ground.

Tare dusted himself off and turned his head directly towards the tourney grounds. " **FORGET ABOUT THAT! WE NEED TO PLUNDER SOME BOOTY WHILE IT'S STILL WARM!** "

Astil blinked a few more times, shaking his head. Tarenor already started marching off at a brisk pace towards the gathering of contestants, and Astil had to jog to keep up. "Uh... what? Booty, sir? We're in... Icecrown?"

" **QUITE RIGHT, GRUMPS. IT'S COLD AS SHIT OUT HERE AND EVERYONE'S HUGGING EACH OTHER TO KEEP WARM!** " Tarenor stopped on a dime and made an about face, nearly causing Astil to crash into him on the slippery path. " **HAVE -YOU- BEEN HUGGED TODAY, SOLDIER?** "

Astil was speechless for a moment, awestruck and caught at a loss for what was happening. Before he could match words into a coherent sentence, he was being crushed in Tarenor's plate-clunky embrace. The commander's stubbly whiskers rubbed against his own. "Urk..."

And just like that, it was over, and the THUNK, THUNK of a Commander on a mission made more distance away from Astil. Astil raised a hand to his head and sighed, unwilling to admit that he did feel a little better after that.

He spotted the commander pull the silver-haired Nynaeve into a body-crushing hug, rubbing his cheeks uncomfortably close into her fair face... it was only when Astil spotted Tarenor's hand slowly grab her from behind during the hug that he sprinted after the gathering. Nynaeve let out an indignant squeal, and Uldwynn did not look amused in the slightest. In fact, Astil could see on his jog that one of Uldwynn's greatswords was slowly making its way out of its sheath. _Light, why today?_

"Sir, look out!" Was all he could think of to break the impending disaster.

Tarenor broke the embrace and jumped back, looking around mechanically and alert for attackers. Nynaeve ran into the comforting arms of a stoic Uldwynn, and Astil barreled into his commander at full speed, sending the two of them tumbling into a snowdrift at the sidelines of the jousting arena. POOF.

Tarenor let out a growl that was cut short by the rubbing of whiskers. "I saved you, sir!"

" **FROM WHAT, GRUMPBUCKET? MORE OF YOUR WATERMELON NONSENSE? CAN'T YOU SEE -** " The two of them stumbled to their feet in a powdery mess. Astil cringed as he felt snow trickle into his under armor. He just looked in disbelief at his superior, who still held furious cerulean blue eyes directed now at Nynaeve and Uldwynn.

" **CAN'T YOU SEE I WAS BUSY INSPECTING THE REAL WATERMELONS?** " Tarenor snapped his head to look Uldwynn in the eyes, unperturbed by the berserker's livid glare. " **THEY'RE IN FINE FORM, SOLDIER. YOU MAY BEGIN FEASTING WHEN READY.** "

And before anyone could fashion a reply, Tarenor turned on his heel and marched off towards the stables, where a human male and a female draenei were preparing the gear for their jousting mounts. Astil shared a quick pleading glance with Uldwynn before running off. As he carefully danced among the frozen paving stones, he heard a booming voice shake his eardrums through the commstone. " **HIGHGUARD! THE ALLIANCE HAVE COME HERE UNDER FALSE PRETENSE. THEY ARE SPYING ON OUR WOMEN AND LOOKING FOR BATTLE TACTICS. WE MUST NOT GIVE AWAY OUR MASTER PLAN! YOU ARE HEREFORE ORDERED TO MINGLE WITH THEM AND CONFUSE THEM TO THE BEST OF YOUR ABILITY!** "

Astil cringed internally as he almost caught up with Tarenor, but slipped on the icy pavement and crashed backwards onto his back. "Woooooah! OOF!" Fortunately, his armor and padding prevented any real damage, but his back and shoulders felt bruised, and he was fortunate not to have hit his head. His vision was spinning. More orders from his commstone shook his reality back into focus. " **AND LOSE NOT YOUR SIGHTS ON THE BOOTY! WE MUST PLUNDER AND TAKE BAKE OUR RIGHTFUL CLAIM, AND SILVERMOON WILL BE RESTORED TO ITS FORMER GLORY!** "

Astil slowly got upright while sitting on the pavement, shaking his head and catching his breath. He glanced up to spot the draenei woman and the man both looking at the approaching and shouting Tarenor like he was a madman. _Probably is a madman at this point_ , Astil thought, _although what to do about a commander in chief running amok?_

A stern woman's voice came through the commstone. "Commander, get ahold of yourself! You are an example to everyone else here and hosted this tourney! You are making an embarrassment of all of us and I will drag you by your ears if I have to -"

" **CAN IT, FALTHRIEN! CAN'T YOU SEE I'M INSPECTING THE ENEMY MUNITIONS? GO FIND AHVIE AND START COOKING DINNER LIKE A GOOD WOMAN.** "

"EXCUSE ME?" Vyara screecheed through the commstone. Astil cradled his head in his hands. "Tarenor, I will dunk your drunk ass into the snow before you can say -"

" **TEN LAPS.** " Astil blinked, hearing his prized phrase stolen by his superior. " **ISN'T THAT RIGHT, LIEUTENANT? TEN LAPS FOR INSUBORDINATION?** "

Tarenor, oblivious to his hand on the elekk saddle, turned and looked to Astilaldan sitting on the pavement. Equally oblivious to Astil sitting on the pavement. It was a serious question. " **QUIT SITTING AROUND AND ANSWER MY QUESTION. TEN LAPS SOUNDS PRUDENT, YES?** "

Vyara's pitch was starting to rise even higher. "What?! Bloodsinger, you can't seriously be -"

"Ugh... yes... sir... insubordination is ten laps."

" **EXCELLENT. FALTHRIEN, YOU WILL DO TEN LAPS AROUND THE COLISEUM, AND MORE WILL BE ADDED FOR EACH COMPLAINT. CHOP CHOP, PLUNDER THAT BOOTY!** "

Inaudible to perhaps Tarenor but few other on the commstone were a litany of epithets and euphemisms grumbled in response, and Vyara was not heard from again. Astil groaned and slowly got back to his feet, careful not to trip up on his iced greaves. He dared a glance towards Tarenor again, and froze.

Tarenor had somehow pulled the draenei woman into a familiar crushing embrace, rubbing his face all over hers, which now appeared quite distressed. Her hands searched her belt for a weapon with which to fend him off with, but she was held tight. Tarenor's hands, however, held her in place and the other was gently stroking her tail like... _Well, shit, this was going to Helheim in a handbasket real quick_. The human male had his shield and sword drawn in a threatening combat stance in the stables, to which Tarenor was blissfully unconcerned with.

Before Astil could even cross the remaining distance to the stables, a shrill squak filled the air, followed by a loud CRACK. Astil had reached the stables only to find a dazed and swooning Tarenor massaging his cheek, which was now bright red in a certain claw shape. The draenei woman was literally surrounded by and crackling with lightning, her eyes dangerous and sharp. She tensed at Astil's approach and directed her unspoken warning to him with claw and glare. To this, Tarenor let out a mirthful laugh.

" **SHE'S GOT SOME SPARK IN HER! WONDERFUL! I FEEL ELECTRIFIED!** " followed by the familiar, thunk, thunk, THUNK. " **COME, LIEUTENANT, WE MUST PLUNDER MORE BOOTY FOR THE GLORY OF QUEL'THALAS!** "

Astil held his hands up to the alarmed Alliance couple in a show of peace, apologized many times in as many languages as he could remember, and trotted off after the commander... who now was accosting a trio of elven women. The unmistakable look of fire in Vyara's eyes seemed to bore holes into Astil's soul as she passed him going the other direction.

"Brightsinger, report," Astil breathed into his commstone.

"I'm here, Grumpyface. What's up?"

"... If this were any other day, you'd be escorting Vyara around the pavilion."

Ahvie giggled through the commstone, followed by a grunt of frustration from Vyara. " **HIGHGUARD, THE WORD FOR TODAY IS -TWERKING-. THAT IS ALL.** "

Ahvie giggled even louder this time, and longer, and Astil ground his teeth in frustration. Ahvie responded after catching her breath. "Ya, but this isn't any other day, grumps. Need some company?"

Astil gave a sidelong glance at Tarenor hugging and subsequently feeling up each elven bombshell, much to their horror. "I have my hands full. No, I have a mission for you."

" **I HAVE MY HANDS FULL! OF BOOTY! LUSCIOUS, WARM, RIPE -** "

Ahvie's voice suddenly interrupted this booming in Astil's ears from above him. "I'm up here. What's up, doc."

She was sitting on one of the eaves to the pavilion, lazily dangling her feet over the edge like some wannabe Shado-Pan. This also gave Astil a unique underside view of her legs and torso that he was sure Tarenor would get grabby hands for, and was sure Ahvie was just as aware of this. Fortunately for both of them, _Bizarro Tarenor_ was preoccupied. _By the bleeding Sunwell, didn't this girl get cold wearing that?_

"I have reason to believe that a blue watermelon that fell from the sky has addled the commander's brain."

Ahvie didn't appear surprised in the least. "Yeah, seems legit. Blue watermelons that bludgeon people tend to have that affect on people."

Astil blinked, then rolled his eyes. Ahvie giggled finally and had to hold her chest and herself back to keep from tumbling off the roof. Astil took in a deep breath and just glared up at her expectantly. She grinned goofily, as always, and tilted her head at him.

Astil broke the awkward silence first. "Were you serious, or was that a joke. Because what's transpiring right now is no laughing matter, Brightsinger."

" **HA! HA HA! LIEUTENANT, YOU MUST COME AND SEE THIS! THESE HUMAN PALADINS ARE WEARING THE SAME ARMOR AS I AM! COME HELP ME FIND OUT HOW THEY FIT THE WOMANLY BITS INTO THOSE TIGHT SPACES!** "

Ahvie just giggled again and shook her head. "I'm not so sure, boss. I kinda like the new Tare. Rocks the boat, if ya know what I mean."

Astil didn't laugh, and gave him as hard a stare as he could manage. She sobered up.

"All right. Fine. I guess I wouldn't want his grubby hands exploring me, either. Whatcha want?"

Astil managed not to blink. "What else? A cure. How do we turn him back?"

"Is that a serious question?"

"I. What. You. Of course it is a serious question. When am I anything other than serious?"

Ahvie just beamed at him. "The night of your honeymoon after you and May May got friendly."

Astil took in a deep breathe and wasn't entirely sure if he was blushing or not. He kept his eyes locked firmly on hers. Ahvie gave him a pouty look and put her hands on her hips.

"Honestly, you've never heard of blue watermelons?"

"No."

"Well, see, they're a rare and magically altered, naturally occurring -" She began with a wide smile. Astil cut her off.

"I don't care that they're real. I can see that they're real. Cure, Ahvie."

Ahvie just frowned at him. "You are no fun."

Astil simply waited.

" **LIEUTENANT, TEN LAPS FOR YOU IF YOU DO NOT COME HERE THIS INSTANT AND HELP ME EXPLAIN TO THESE DAMSELS THAT THEIR ARMOR IS COVERING UP TOO MUCH OF THEIR BEAUTY! WE ARE BUTT SO CLOSE TO PAY DIRT!** "

Ahvie returned it with her own silence, stifling her own giggling fit.

"Ahv-"

"It's simple. See the blue glow in his eyes? It's corrupted - or purified, if you asked the high elves - his fel tainted essence. We all have that glow that makes our eyes green, right? Well, the cure is pretty simple."

Astil sighed. "You like telling stories, don't you?"

She just beamed at him. "Why, Grumps, I didn't think you noticed."

Astil turned to the side and ignored the screams of distressed women in the distance. The clattering of metal on metal was heard nearby, whether from the jousting or from a battle between guild masters was unknown. "So... blue watermelons made his eyes blue. And to turn them back to green..."

Ahvie chuckled with a hint of condescension. "Yes...?"

Astil looked up sharply at her. "Really? That's it? A normal green watermelon?"

Pointed a finger gun at him with a wink. "PEW. Upside the head. Pretty neat, huh?"

"I need you to find one immediately and stand ready atop the archway beneath the coliseum entrance."

Ahvie then bolted upright and gave possibly the best example of a salute he'd ever seen from her. Which meant it was a joke, naturally. She grinned and hopped off the edge of the roof, landing in the snow without a sound, her boots and cloak not even stained by the weather. She waved lazily at him and ran off towards the supply caravan.

Astil breathed a sigh of relief, only to remember where Tarenor wanted to see him. If he wasn't quick, he'd be sharing that jog with a very livid Vyara.

Fortunately, he needed only follow the screams.

Tarenor was surrounded in the Valiant's Ring by four plate-wearing humans, two of them red-faced women. Astilaldan strolled up to the edge of the ring so as to not cause alarm to the humans. Peculiarly, several belts and cloaks were lying around the hardened snow at random. With Tarenor and the others raising their hands up in threatening fisticuffs, Astil figured that on any other day that might seem strange.

A flock of Alliance and Horde priestesses and mages ran past Astil as though they had escape the clutches of some giant bear, and for all Astil could tell, they had. Soon, the bustle dimmed down to be overridden by only the blowing of the wind and the shouting of the five paladins in front of him.

" **NOW, NOW, LET'S NOT GET GREEDY. WE SHOULD ALL TAKE TURNS. THE LADIES HAVE LIMITS, YOU KNOW. WE MUSTN'T WEAR THEM OUT! I PROPOSE GOING FIRST, TO ENSURE THEY ARE FIT FOR BATTLE!** "

Astil cringed and waved over at them, shouting to his commander. "Sir! I have found the booty!"

Tarenor bolted upright and turned to face Astil despite the humans closing in, their faces dark.

" **DID YOU, NOW? DOES IT GLOW IN THE SUNLIGHT AND MELT THE HEARTS AND SNOW AROUND HER LIKE THE LIVING SUNWELL ITSELF? DOES HER HAIR FLOW LIKE FRESH SPAGHETTI, WARM WET AND -** "

"Yes, sir, but you must come with me and seek shelter away from prying eyes!"

Tarenor then threw up his hands in a surrender posture, and bowed quickly in turn to each of the humans. They frozen, unsure what he was about to do next. Before any of them could lay a hand on him to arrest him, the commander was dashing through the snow toward his wingman. " **GOOD SHOW! GOOD TIMES! GOOD FIGHT!** " He waved back at them as they closed ranks to glare at him. " **WE SHALL MEET AGAIN, YOUNG MAIDENS, AND THIS WELL-LEARNED ELF WILL SHOW YOU WHAT A HUMAN NEVER COULD IN SIXTY YEARS OF LOVE!** "

Astil then gently patted Tarenor on the back and led him gently onto the path surrounding the coliseum. Vyara passed them again, her expression perplexed and begrudging. Unfortunately for her, she passed by too closely and Tarenor gave her a loud metal slap on her ass, which Astil hoped nobody could feel. However, she nearly reared on him mid-stride, to which Tarenor pointed at her and boomed, " **AH! FINE FORM, FALTHRIEN! KEEP THAT ASS FLAT AND I MIGHT CUT SOME LAPS OFF! ON AND OFF MY LAP!** "

Astil cringed internally as Vyara turned to glare at her fellow blood knight. He gave her a look of apology and desperation. She scrunched up her face in anger and turned to resume her penance. " **GET IT, LIEUTENANT? LAPS? HA HA!** "

They kept walking around the pavilion until they came upon the covered archway than run underneath the pavilion stairway. Ahvie was perched atop the edge of it, dangling her feet lazily over the edge like a bored child. Her expression was of giddy anticipation.

Astil looked up to her briefly to raise his eyebrows to her, and she winked back, but Tarenor's wandering eyes didn't miss this forward display of womanhood. He held up his arms to Ahvie as he stopped beneath the arch. Astil was sure he had a very good view between her legs. In fact, he was sure that was the reason he stopped there. Tarenor reached up and caressed her thigh-high boots with groping metal gauntlets.

" **AHVIE! YOU LOOK AS LUSTFUL AS EVER! WHY COULDN'T EVERY WOMAN LEAVE THEIR PANTS AT HOME LIKE YOU?** "

Ahvie chuckled back at him, kicking playfully at his outstretched arms and making him chase after them like butterflies. So fixated on her bare legs Tarenor was, that he didn't seem to notice Ahvie lifting a massive green watermelon from behind her to hoist above the edge. She teased back at him. "Because I imagine they're proper ladies who have learned how to run and fight in dresses."

Tarenor let out a bellow of laughter, still oblivious to the watermelon teetering on the edge of his vision. " **YOU MUST ENJOY BEING LOOKED AT, LUSTED OVER, SHOWING YOURSELF OFF WITH SUCH ABANDON! A WOMAN AFTER MY OWN HEART! JUMP DOWN TO ME, THAT I MIGHT SHOWER YOU WITH AFFECTION!** "

Ahvie grinned sardonically, and replied, "With pleasure, boss."

And then she dropped the watermelon onto Tarenor's head.

PLOP. BOOF. POW!

The watermelon broke into many pieces as Tarenor was knocked unconscious to the ground, Astil standing well clear of the fruity explosion. Vyara had caught up with them, stopping within the archway just short of Tarenor, who was spread-eagled on the ground covered in red watermelon meat and seeds. Fragments of green shelling rolled around after the crash.

Vyara just looked up at Ahvie, who was still sitting atop the ledge. Ahvie just shrugged at her with an expression that said, Don't look at me, I didn't do it.

Vyara looked back down at Tarenor, who stirred a little bit with a groan. Astil leaned over his superior and waited for him to wake up. Tare groaned again and his eyes fluttered open. They glowed a dim green, just like theirs. Confusion ran rampant in his eyes, and he sniffed the air with an odd look.

"Urgh... what? Bloodsinger? Falthrien?" He looked around, bewildered at being covered in watermelon. "Brightsinger?" He looked up, dazed at a wildly grinning Ahvie. "What happened? Why am I on the ground? With... watermelon?"

Astilaldan helped him sit upright, brushing off some watermelon fragments from the commander's hair and armor. Vyara merely watched with a stern expression and a hand on her hip. Astil looked up at her first before explaining to Tarenor. "You were hit by a magical blue watermelon, which Ahvie tells me can change personalities."

"A blue... what? That's ridiculous? I feel just fine, with a little headache." Tarenor then turned up to glare inquisitively at Ahvie.

"No, sir, you... you were hit earlier today. You then started running about the tourneygrounds, assaulting various, erm, women."

"I... what?! I don't remember any of that!" Tarenor sounded horrified as well as dumbfounded.

Vyara leaned in inspected Tarenor's eyes and expression, before giving him a loud, hard slap across the face that echoed across the mountains. "OW! Wha?!" Tare's face spun, and Vyara stormed off. Astil just sat there with him.

Tarenor massaged his jaw a moment while taking in everything. "And... this watermelon... is you trying to turn me back to normal?"

Before Astil could reply, Ahvie did it for him. "Yep! Sorry about the headache, boss! But at least you're not getting grabby with the Alliance women anymore, right?"

She stood up atop the ledge and pointed down at Astil. "You owe me for this, Grumps." She then grinned down at a dazed Tarenor. "Stay away from flying blue fruit from now on, okay? Byeeee!" And she was gone. Off to do Ahvie things.

Tarenor slowly got to his feet with Astil's help and shook his head slowly.

"... How bad was I?"

Astil hesitated. He wasn't sure how much Tarenor wanted to know.

"Remember that time you auctioned yourself off to Shots at the Dalaran Military Ball?"


End file.
